All these unread pages
by BlackStarXxX
Summary: Psychic!Blaine walks around Dalton wearing the mask that is Blaine Warbler. Kurt and Carson Hummel transfer to Dalton. Kurt sees a crack in the mask one night and vows to help Blaine Anderson in any and every way. The Warblers and Carson just want them to be happy.Warnings: mild mentions of self-harm and homophobic slurs
1. Prologue

**I do not own Glee**

**Prologue**

Carson Phillip Hummel: Identical three minute older twin of Kurt Elijah Hummel. To him, Kurt was his twin, brother and best gay friend.

Kurtis Elijah/ Elizabeth Hummel: Identical three minute younger twin of Carson Phillip Hummel. To him, Carson was his twin, brother and best if not only guy friend.

They were always there for each other, they weren't that close in fact apart from their looks they had little to nothing in common, but yet they were there for each other because they were _family_ and they were taught that family is _important_

Family is important and the Hummel's are a very loving family. They were your normal happy average. Burt was owned the garage "Hummel's Tires and Lube" and Elizabeth was a house wife, she took care of Kurt and Carson but she gave the neighbourhood kids piano lessons and also taught Kurt and Carson as well.

Kurt liked to help out his mother in the kitchen with pancakes that had smiley faces, French toast that wasn't really French, chocolate-chip cookies which was Grandma super secret recipe and making eggy soldiers almost as much as Carson liked to help out his dad in the garage checking the engines, changing the brakes and doing a few errands for his dad. He wasn't old enough do any of the big jobs but he really liked to help out his dad in the shop.

Yes, the Hummel's were your normal happy family. They didn't have superpowers, they didn't know the answers to world peace and despite Carson and Kurt being twins they couldn't read each other's minds much to their disappointment. They were normal.

But what was normal?

Elizabeth Trudy Hummel died on a stormy night on the 14th May at 21:34 due to car crash; she died instantly as she went through the front window and into a ditch. A patrol found the wreckage and her body two days later.

Kurt cried when their father told them the news with a strong voice but red eyes, Carson held him but didn't do anything else. He felt like he wasn't functioning, how was he still breathing? You can't breathe if you feel like all the air has been taken out of your lungs!

He held Kurt but he didn't let go when Kurt stopped crying.

He held on tighter.

He didn't let go when Kurt told him that he was hurting him.

Carson hurt too though...

Then they were eight and there mom had just died.

Is that normal?

They all dealt with grief in their own way.

Burt lived in denial, and he just worked in his shop well into the night, maybe if he fixed all the cars it would bring Liz back! You never know! Besides he was the mechanic, he should have fixed the breaks in their family car or he should have gotten better tyres for the car, he could have done something! He should have done something and whatever he needed to do to get Liz back, he'd do it.

Ignorance was Carson's new best friend. Carson found his way of making everything else in the world not matter, just making it go away. By writing .Words were his outlets.

There were so many words! He could write about his day, he could write about the day he wished he had instead; it was an endless cycle of power! He had his words; it was his own superpower because when he was writing everything else became white noise. He though he shut himself away in his room and just write in this little blue polka dot spiral notebook.

Carson missed meals and was failing at school. His teachers were worried about the little shit.

Kurt mourned in a different way, he spoke in nothing but French, both he and Carson were fluent, their mother was part French so it was probably less of a shock than it would have been under different circumstances to the family, Carson understood and was the sort of a translator after he got his shit together

When Burt announced enough was enough they would be moving to San Francisco and live with their grandparents for a while. Burt closed off Hummel's tyres and lube and very thing was getting better. It was time to leave Ohio for a while at least.

Even when Kurt came out of the closet at fourteen, in English surprisingly

Even when Burt sent Carson to a therapist for anger management.

Even when their grandfather was died of a heart attack when they were fifteen

Even when their grandmother was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease, and was sent to a home.

Yes, everything was almost close to getting better.

But you see, although Carson and Burt were nothing but supportive of Kurt about his sexual preferences others were not, the Neanderthals at school to be the main example.

The taunts were in easily block it out, until some of those assholes learnt the truth

Faggot

Homo

Loser

Scum

Queer

To name a few...

They managed though, Kurt had his quips and wits, Carson pretty much had dirt on everyone, and in fact his motto was: "If you can't find any dirt, you aren't digging deep enough!"

So for the most part Kurt was safe when Carson was around but Carson couldn't protect Kurt from the worst of it all, unfortunately, he was president of the writer's club and he had to go to middle school student council meetings also he was editor of the school newspaper, actually he was the only one who cared about the school newspaper! Not to mention he didn't share that many classes with Kurt. Although that was mainly to ensure the teachers didn't mix them up.

He said nothing about how his stupid locker which had the word _fag* _engraved on to it. Didn't say anything to anyone! He even silenced his bruises with his long sleeved, turtlenecks and scarves even though it was early spring

He said nothing of the pain in his chest when he came home from school; he only admitted to himself a couple of months into middle school that lying through his teeth about how his day to his family was in fact painful.

Kurt told them the half truth; he just left out the verbal bulling, which made his days seem dull but safe for whenever Carson and Burt asked about his day. He was more interested in them anyway. They were the reason to keep his mouth shut on the topic. Pretending he was fine kept them happy and not worrying about him and all he had to do was not talk about it.

Carson was the one who discovered Kurt was being bullied first and tried everything to find out what happened to him, he tried ever thing to find out what happened and when he did pissed off would be describing it mildly, Carson let lose the dirt he had on Kevin, the quarterback. That he was a drug addict. He also printed out a special edition of the school newspaper and practically gave it away for free, shoving it into people's faces glaring at them until they read the whole thing.

Who knew Kevin would suit a pink tutu and was that fairy wings strapped on his back? How lovely!

{Nobody _needed_ to know that Kevin was doing it for his little sister that just so happened to be cut out of the photos {as in more than one} right?}

Also no one really needed to know that it was Carsonthat put itching powder into Kevin's football jersey during practice ... right? Or that he put laxities in dear Kevin's food.

He wasn't going overbroad, granted he wasn't entirely certain if it was legal or not but still, he could do so much worse to that piece of trash, whom which deserved all and tenfold for emotionally and physically harassing Kurt!

And as for Burt, well he had had enough. One of his boys wasn't _living_ and the other was like a firecracker wait for just the right time to explode at anyone and everything, lord knows he didn't have it in him for Carson to go to juvie.

Both of them had to out of their school as soon as possible. Suspending Kevin wasn't going to do any good so Burt decided to send Carson and Kurt back to Ohio. Kurt and Carson could go to Dalton. Perfect.

xXx

Carson and Kurt never shared anything really, Kurt was an openly gay fashion conscious teenager, and Carson was a straight and only really cared about himself and his future career. Polar opposites really, when they were younger the never shared any of their toys with one another and in school they hung about in different groups. When they were thirteen they demanded to have separated rooms, Kurt demanded it French but still. This may seem harsh but that's what happened. They loved each other as brothers do but they never really had anything to talk about, although it wasn't from a lack of trying.

After the move Burt wanted the twins to go to Dalton Academy. Carson heartily agreed about it, Dalton was a great school; the academics were challenging, so not all the students and faculty could be a bunch of cattle, right? The school offered a school newspaper he could work with and also a fight club, his old therapist had suggested an outlet, so now he could learn real fighting techniques and he did need the extra circular actives if he stood a chance of getting into NorthWestern University. Kurt though, wasn't that sure. He didn't like the uniform and he didn't like that he would have to board and only seeing his dad at the weekends and there was the fact Carson was a terrible roommate but it would be a dream to get into a school like this for him! He could wear whatever he wanted at the weekends and the appeal was just too much for him, zero tolerance on bulling! He didn't need friend but he didn't need enemies, he just need to survive three more years.

So after a long heated discussion it was decided Carson and Kurt would go to Dalton for his three remaining high school years in Dalton and Burt would go back to Lima, Burt could re-open the garage and still keep up what could go to Washington with feeling guilty about leaving them alone for a bit, but he reminded himself it was ok now, his boys were _safe_

xXx

Blaine Anderson is starting Dalton Academy four months after the beginning of freshman year because of _special circumstances._ The faulty suggested not having a roommate as a result because of it. So for the rest of freshman year he caught up on academics, he made good friends and eventually he got some courage to audition for the Warblers. He got in, made the lead and played the role with true showmanship. He was a model student apart from the fact he was gay but he wasn't a very touchy feely person, he avoided touching people with a passion, so it didn't bother the rest of the other boys in the school. All his first year Blaine Anderson worked at school and then hung out with his friends during the weekend and sang with the Warblers most afternoons.

To the world of Dalton Academy Blaine Anderson didn't exist, everyone only knew him as Blaine Warbler and Blaine wouldn't have it any other way. Blaine Warbler was so much _better _than Blaine Anderson, in Blaine's opinion.

Blaine Warbler was confident, charming, dapper and polite, Blaine Warbler tie got along with everyone. Yes, Blaine Warbler was better so much _better_ than Blaine Anderson and Blaine wouldn't have it any other way because Blaine Warbler was _normal_ Blaine Anderson wasn't. Blaine Anderson was a _freak._

There's no way he could be telling the truth right? Psychic's aren't real, yes there is no way he could be telling the truth- False

Blaine Anderson took medication three times a day, had trouble sleeping because of night terrors, used to be a cutter and to top it all of was psychic but we'll get to all later.

Blaine Warbler kept up a perfect attendance and GPA of 4.1 he was always seen with his blazer on and was "open minded to the idea of something bigger" but septic enough not to be naïve

Blaine Warbler was perfect but Blaine Anderson was a mess. Blaine was certain that this would probably kill him in the end, everyone likes his cover is better than his stories. His cover his so pretty no one would think his story is so dark.

And it kills him.


	2. The happy knight

**Chapter 1**

_I was a knight. I knew that immediately somehow. I'm wearing and white suit of armour with the ruby red Dalton crest on my right above my heart. I'm walking down stairs. I've reached the bottom and turn to face the top of the stairs, I think I see an angel but decide not to say anything, anything is possible when I'm like this, my body knows what to do so I just go with it._

_The angel walk down the stairs but as he walk down he changes. I don't like these changes at all. He bruised all over, the angel has a shadow over him and his ocean eyes are crying, looking at me, and daring me to look away._

_I don't want to._

_I don't know how to._

_I can't._

_He has me trapped, mesmerised in his enchanting eyes._

_Some people have a miserable beauty to them when they cry; he is one of these people. _

_Oh my prince what has the world done to you?_

_Prince?_

_Yes, prince. Not angel. He's a prince!_

_He stops three steps above me._

_Before I know it I'm on one knee and bowing my head a little. I reach for his hands and I lightly kiss the right one. Then I look him in the eyes. I can see him a little clearer now but everything's so fussy. His tearful eyes and battered hand are the only things that stand out to me._

"_Oh sweet prince, lily white look with favour upon your knight" I chant to him, why is it always riddles? Why do I dream in riddles?_

"_I favour no fool until he – hath proved his worth for all to see"_

_Music. Such sweet music comes from his lips._

"_My wit, my skill, my strength, my nerve- command you, for I beg to serve" _

_I look pleadingly at him and realize it's true; I want him to tell me what to do. I want to help him I just don't know how to. _

"_The trial I demand of thee is hard indeed, in which the favour my knight shall be..."_

_My blood runs cold._

_I can't do that._

_How would that help him!_

_I can't do that. _

_I want to tell him. Look him in the eyes and say _Sorry I can't_ but looking at those sea crystal orbs. I know I'm doomed to follow his wishes._

_I don't want to fight this anymore._

_I'm so tired._

*Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep*

06:15 AM

I open my eyes and look at the white ceiling then roll over to press the button that so the alarm stops. I get up and almost robotically turn around to make the bed, and then I walk to the bathroom.

Use toilet. Brush teeth. Take shower. Comb product though hair. Put on uniform.

White button up shirt, grey slacks, black socks, tie.

I go over to my bed and look in the mirror on the wall.

"My name is Blaine. This is me. I'm alive. I am well and truly awake" I mutter to myself.

I feel stupid doing this part but I do it anyway, to remind myself who I am. That I am here and I am alive...

Sometimes it doesn't feel that way though.

I shake the thoughts out of my head. I need to get my stickers.

I turn to my bedside table and pull out my gold star stickers and my mini calendar. It's stupid really, really unbelievable stupid but I do it anyway because I think it really helps if only a little. I pull off and star and out it next to yesterday's date.

...Wow

Five full weeks

I haven't cut in five weeks.

That's good, right? Yea I'm pretty sure. Well done me!

I stare for awhile then hurriedly put it away and pull out my art supplies.

07:26 AM

Plenty of time before school starts.

So I sketch.

I sketch myself in armour.

I draw the Dalton crest.

I draw the angel at the top of the staircase.

I draw those enchantingly miserable eyes.

I go over them all again in pen.

08:43 AM

_I should stop._

I spend more time on the eyes.

_I have to stop._

Such beautiful eyes.

_I need to stop_

_Stop!_

08:52 AM

_Blazer_ I think. I need the blazer almost automatically I look down at my wrists and see them littered with scars. As old and faded as they were they were there. _Right there_.

There was more of course, on my ankles and the back of my thighs and some around my hips and shoulders. The ones on my wrists were the only ones I am ashamed of though; they were the most noticeable could get me caught.

They were a dusty light pink colour instead of the bloody red cuts they used to be. I stopped picking and them to so now instead of plucked at and crimson they were healing nicely, sort of faded into the skin but still definitely there.

Taunting. Teasing. Torturing. Reminding and unrelenting, to memories that happen almost a year ago. It happened a _year_ ago. I should get over it.

Okay blazer, got it!

I look in the mirror to see if I'm forgetting something. I straighten out my blazer and tie, thinking about what I'm forgetting. Shoes and schoolbag are near the door. Course work uniform on. Pictures {which in the wrong hands could prove I'm crazy} are in my drawer beside the bed. Bed made and bathroom cleaned up.

Oh yea, I always forget _that_. Shame it's probably one of the easiest things to do for other people. Coming naturally as breathing, for me it's just a show. Obliviously fake, I don't understand how people don't realise that's it is fake. I have no reason for it being there too be honest it just looks better there than when it's not there at all.

"You have to keep at it otherwise people will think there's something wrong with you" That's what I think anyway.

Personally I feel if people looked closely enough they could tell it's just plastered on. It's so plastic, so forced. There is no spark, no reason, just careful positioning of facial muscles, that's all. People look but they don't see, I think that's how magicians keep cash rolling in. The illusions.

I try to get it right and then once I'm satisfied, I try to keep it like that all day.

It's hard but it's worth it.

After all..._You're never fully dressed without a smile on your face!_


	3. Sing life away

Take Notes. Smile. Nod. Try listening dumbass!

_Ding Ding Ding _

Oh, thank god for free periods!

I collect my thing and walk-run out of the classroom and down the hallways and out into the fresh air to go all the way to The Hut.

The Hut is an old abandoned schoolhouse that burnt down in a fire in '94. It's bordered up and on the edge of campus, at least half the students don't know it exists and nobody goes there anyway so faultily didn't see any reason to demolish the building, much to my own delight. It's a paradise for me really, my little piece of heaven. Considering a) it's Friday b) the end of the day and c) I want to, I think staying the night here can't be that bad, I've done it before so why not, right?

Here I have camping equipment and extra school supplies along with some vodka and two half-finished packets of cigarettes the rest is extra.

...

Let it never be known Blaine Anderson was a saint, ladies and gentlemen.

First of all, I don't smoke, the cigarettes are not mine; I just haven't thrown them out yet. The vodka is for Fridays and Saturdays only, and it_ is_ Friday and _well..._it's been a crappie week. The extra school supplies are just basically lots and lots of art supplies. I use them for my_ "psychic" _things.

{I'm beyond the point of denying it, I'm psychic. Deal with it. Plus I can't think of what else to call this problem, and it is a problem believe me}

I've learnt the hard way ignoring the warning signs of anything unnatural will pretty much kill me or at least try to, so with my art supplies I draw what I see in my dreams or visions {Yes there is a difference}, so that I don't worry about it _that_ much, instead of being in a screaming, bloody agony inside of my own head it's an irritating murmur that can be blocked out, especially if booze is involve. I've never been prouder when I figured out I was a lightweight. If I don't scribble it down it will stay in my head and I won't be able to _not_ relive every single detail.

Every sight.

Every sound.

Every smell.

Every emotion. The fear, the pain, the confusion, the bliss, the dizziness in happiness, sadness, jealousy, anger, betray, hate and probably worst of all love. I hate the feeling of love in these things. I don't hate love; it's just that I've never really been in love before, so the feeling to love someone and to be loved back eats me up inside because it seems like such a private thing that I'm intruding on.

Maybe I'm just to fucking complicated for anyone to love {Boy does _that_ sound dramatic} I again stress the psychic part, I know but it's fucking weird. A seventeen year old gay psychic is not a normal occurrence in Ohio. I'm so glad college is oh so very soon. I even know what one I get into, again weird but reassuring that I don't spend the rest of my life in this backwards one horse state.

Now damn do I need a drink.

The raw alcohol burns my throat but I gulp it down earnestly. It makes my head a fuzzy but I can't be bothered to care. I lie down on the mossy floor and loosen my tie with one hand and take another swing of vodka with the other.

I look up to where the ceiling is suppose to be but instead there's this huge gaping hole with some over hanging trees coming in and tonight's darkening sky is a killer view, cloud watching is actually quite calming and soothing to anyone who has never tried it. I feel the warm buzzing in my head as I look up but I refuse to move my body, if I'm caught drinking on campus it will not bode well for Blaine Warbler. Warbler doesn't drink because you shouldn't until your 21; it's like law or something. Probably.

Urgh, since when did the world get _this _blurry!

...

Carson and I haven't shared a room in years, not since we were little kids. So I did expect that spending five nights a week in a dorm room would be very _unnerving_ to say the very least but I never seriously considered the thought that my own brother would inspire my inner serial killer so much, in fact the only thing stopping me from killing him is the fact I detest manual labour and that Kurt Hummel does not do prison time, no sir thank you very much. I mean who that does that _imbécile_ think he is! He completely wreaked half of my Alexander McQueen and just tossed out most of my Marc Jacob collection including this _really_ cute robin egg blue coat I wanted to wear after the first official day of Dalton on Monday because my closet was already full up and he just couldn't let me fill up his near empty closet full of rags and the most monstrous piece of red and blue that dare be passed off as a _uniform_! I just, Urgh I want to scream!

Piano will have to do. On the tour today a member of the school's show choir showed us around and since he was a wombat or some name equally stupid, Wes-I think is name was- was very enthusiastic about Cars and I joining when I off-handily mentioned we were contemnors, you'd think in a all boys school there would be at least one! Well now there's two weather Carson likes to admit it or not.

Now, don't get me wrong I love to sing but the only reason that I really, really want to join the garblers is because of the piano forte in the practice room. See, I don't even know if their good but there suppose to be a performance soon so we'll see.

Ooh, piano.

I play a few high notes and try to think of a good song to get this emotion out. I can't think of any damn it. I play a tune as try to think of song but I was still drawing a blank.

Let's see, I'm pissed at Carson for ruining most of my clothes, so now I'm suppose to get by one wardrobe _what the hell!_ I'm mourning for my hips after all that take away I've had in the past two days because I was just too tired to cook and didn't want to risk eating Dad's cooking because dear _Dieu_ the man cannot cook to save his life! Nervous about Dalton mad about Dalton happy about Dalton and ... ashamed. _Dieu_ I'm a coward aren't I? Yes, yes I am! I fucking ran away from a bully in San Francisco and fled all the way to Ohio! Damnit.

_Ddduuuunnnnnnn_

The deep piano might be a bit of an exaggeration, but I felt like it.

I should go back and take a shower then sleep it off. This feels like a tomorrow problem. If I take a longer path to my dormitory well then there is nothing wrong with that now is there?

...

Kermit is such a drama queen, stormed out over a wardrobe malfunction! Dear lord.

Carson looked around the room started getting ready to do up the room. He knew if he let Kurt near the place it would end up like one of those magazine covers. Well done but too polished, to over the top for merely a room they'll just be crashing in during the nights. A room in Carson's opinion, any room needs to be clean and neat but not really that tidy and hey if you want a job done right you, have to do it yourself. Alone, without annoying little brother's getting in your way.

_Am I loud and clear, or am I breaking up?  
Am I still your charm, or am I just bad luck?  
Are we getting closer, or are we just getting more lost?_

I'll show you mine if you show me yours first  
Let's compare scars, I'll tell you who's is worse  
Let's unwrite these pages and replace them with ooooouuuuuuurrrrrrrrrr ooooowwwwn wooooooorrrdddssssssss

What the actual hell? Who is that?

_We live on front porches and swing life away,  
We get by just fine here on minimum wage  
If love is a labor I'll slave till the end,  
_AND _I won't cross these streets until you hold my haaaaaaannnndddd_

It was loud, too loud for this ungodly hour of the night but surprisingly good for someone obviously not in the right frame of mind. Deciding that it couldn't be to terrible to check what the dejesus was going on Carson tentively made his way to the door to find out what the racket was.

_I've been here so looooooooonnnnnnnng, I think that it's time to mooooooooovvvvvvvvveeeeeeee  
The winter's so cold, summer's over too soon  
Let's pack our bags and settle down where palm trees grow_

Silently opening the door Carson peered out and saw... one hell of a wasted student. Which in retrospect made a lot of sense. A mob of wild curly hair was sticking out at all angles, the hobbit was swaying keeping close to the walls a slowly and unsteadily making his way down the hallway. Carson had to push down his disgust deep, _deep _down. He's always hated alcoholics to a certain degree the Hummel's old neighbors; the Phillips started it, in Carson's opinion.

He knew it didn't mean that this kid was as bad as Neal and Sheryl, but Carson just immediately did not like him, not that he really liked anyone that much to begin with to be fair. Unfortunately he could hear his inner Kurt saying the poor bastard could be expelled a teacher caught him like this.

_I've got some friends, some that I hardly know  
But we've had some times, I wouldn't trade for the world  
We chase these days down with talks of the places that we will go_

"Yo, Frodo" He called to the kid, but he was either purposely ignoring him, didn't hear or just wanted to keep singing.

_We live on front porches and swing life away,  
We get by just fine here on minimum wage  
If love is a labor I'll slave till the end,  
I won't cross these streets until you hold my hand UNTIL YOU HOLD MY HAND!_

Deciding that waking the rest of the hallway was not a very good idea Carson took hold of the boy's shirt and dragged him into the bedroom.

_Dieu is French for God according to _**Google Translate**_.__ Imbecile isn't that hard to translate for yourself._

_I'm so, so, so sorry for the wait this chapter killed me over and over every time I tried to write it. The song is called Swing life away by Rise Against and I do not own it. The POV's _**will**_ change but it shouldn't be that hard to follow I swear! A big thank you to all of you who reviewed!_


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